Like You've Never Known
by Karrisa
Summary: Placed in Season 4 of The Lost World, Lord John Roxton convinces the explorers to evacuate the tree house for one night so that he and Marguerite Krux can share an unforgettable night and experience together...


Like You've Never Known

Let me set the precedent for you: This Roxton/Marguerite love story takes place in season four (which was not aired). For those of you who thought that Roxton and Marguerite had sex in the episode Trapped (from season 3), let's say (for the sake of this story) that they didn't. Since every time these two lovebirds are in an amorous mood, something or someone completely ruins it, I've decided that they will be spending time alone with no interruptions whatsoever. In addition, this takes place after the events of the series finale. Everyone's back, including Summerlee and our explorers are enjoying a brief reprieve from the dangers of the plateau. [For those interested, every single episode of the Lost World is on YouTube, uploaded by TVFanatics84. She's a godsend.] And of course, these characters do not belong to me and all that good stuff 

"I was hoping you and the others wouldn't object to vacating the house for the night," John whispered to Veronica.

Veronica nodded her head slowly as realization settled on her face. "We could spend the night in the Zanga village," she suggested.

"Brilliant." He placed a loud kiss on the blonde beauty's cheek. "You're an angel. Honestly."

After the other five explorers had left, Roxton settled on the couch, listening to the sound of running water coming from the shower. He leaned back into the seat and let images of her naked body drift into his mind. It had been four years and he'd yet to see her beautiful body. All he had to go on were speculations. Many times, he thought he'd heard moaning coming from the shower and imagined that she must have been pleasuring herself. He visualized her body to be absolutely flawless, her creamy white breasts perky and her lovely hips full. He longed to put his hands and his mouth all over her. His eyes snapped open as abruptly as the shower shut off. The moment of truth was about to arrive.

Marguerite knew she'd taken a long time in the shower, but she couldn't help herself. John. God, John. He elicited all kinds of thoughts and feelings from her. She had this deep ache inside of her. He'd put it there and she was willing to bet that he was the only one who could get rid of it. If she weren't of sound mind, she'd walk into the living room right now, as naked as the day she was born, and offer herself to him. She could only get so much pleasure from her own hand. Dressed in an oversized shirt, she decided to leave her hair down; she knew he liked it better that way.

Roxton sat up when he heard Marguerite softly padding into the room. He looked at her, involuntarily smiling widely. When he got around her, he was so happy. He'd never imagined a woman could make him feel that way. She gave him a shy smile, biting her lower lip, as she walked slowly over to settle beside him on the couch. Four years on this plateau, four years of being helplessly in love with the raven-haired beauty. He leaned over to her and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. "Well, you look relaxed," he said, his smile never wavering.

"Trust me, I'm far from." She shrugged his arm away and turned to wrap _her_ arms around his shoulders. "Is that my greeting?" she inquired softly.

"Not even close." He closed the gap between them, kissing her gently. She tried to deepen the kiss, poking her tongue out to part his lips, but he kept them closed. He wanted her to know that tonight, under the circumstances and in his state of mind, he did not want to start anything that they would not finish. He pulled back reluctantly. By the look on her face, he could tell that she was annoyed with him. Good. Annoyance can inspire people. He glanced at her attire. "Is that mine?"

She removed her arms from around him and plucked at the front of the shirt. "Yes. I was hoping you wouldn't mind. It's kind of hot out and I didn't feel like putting on too much."

He smiled again. "Well, what's mine is yours, right?"

"That's for married people, John."

"It's only a matter of time, Marguerite."

She sighed heavily. "John—"

"Marguerite. Why's it so hard for you to just let yourself be happy?"

"Getting married is your idea of 'happy'?"

"Being with you for the rest of my life _is_ my idea of happiness." He took hold of her hand and looked into her eyes. "And I know you feel the same way about me."

He was holding her captive with his gaze. "Roxton, I don't want to talk about this anymore." She retrieved her hand from his and turned around so that she was leaning on his chest and he was holding her. "What were you up to while I was in the shower?"

"Thinking."

"About?" she prompted.

"Us."

He felt her body stiffen. "Oh."

He kissed her lightly on the cheek and inhaled the tropical sent of her hair. "Hmm, you smell good enough to eat."

She chuckled. "It's good to know that I inspire you to cannibalism."

"As delicious as you smell, that's not exactly what I meant," he answered suggestively. He let his words marinate.

When she realized what he meant, she whipped her head around to face him. He did not look the least bit apologetic. All of a sudden, she felt naked. She crossed her legs together, aware of how high the shirt rose on her thighs. "Roxton, you really shouldn't say things like that."

"Why not?"

_Because you make me want to throw myself at you and beg you to take me._ "I don't know. Just…" Her voice wavered as she followed his gaze to her exposed thighs.

He was picturing her legs wrapped around his waist, draped over his shoulders…

"Are you still afraid of me?"

"Afraid of you? You're silly." She scoffed. "I'm not afraid of you."

He brought his eyes up to look into hers again. "Yes, you are. You're terrified of me. You 're terrified of how much you love me." He reached out and traced an invisible line on her thigh. "You're terrified of how I make you feel."

The tone of his voice had changed and she'd be lying if she said she did not know what was on his mind. "You're mental."

"Am I?" he asked. "Why'd you refuse to let me touch you in the cave?"

"_What_?" she asked in disbelief. "I thought I was going to die, Roxton. Excuse me if I wasn't trying to get my jollies off right before I croaked."

He cringed. "Don't say that. You know it would have been something much more than that."

She shrugged. "Still…"

Threading his fingers into her thick, curly hair, he brought her face closer to his. "I love you, Marguerite," he whispered, "You're the most important thing to me. I don't want you to be afraid of us. I'd rather die before I break your heart… I swear."

Her eyes were filling up with tears, as they often did at his declarations of love. She hesitated, wanting to express her feelings to him, but afraid to. She felt so selfish when she didn't say it back. He deserved so much better than that. "John…"

He kissed her again, pulling delicately at her bottom lip with his teeth. "Marguerite, let me in," he begged softly. His lips strayed across her cheek. He dropped his hands from her hair and placed one on her hip, tugging her a little bit closer to him. "I can make you feel a pleasure like you've never known." He planted kisses on her neck.

An involuntary moan escaped her throat as she shifted her head to give him more access. "Roxton…"

Harshly, he whispered, "Don't say no, Marguerite. You want this as badly as I do." He undid the top button of her shirt and nuzzled the exposed skin.

Her eyes drifted closed. _Why not?_ She thought. _We're all alone. Who knows when we'll be alone again?_ Marguerite pushed Roxton off of her and got up from the couch.

He slammed his hand down on the couch in frustration. "Damn it, Marguerite!"

She turned back to him, a small smile playing on her lips, and reached her hand out to him. "My, my, aren't we impatient?" He stared at her hand, afraid she'd withdraw it if he got his hopes up. After several long seconds, he took her hand and unfolded himself from the couch.

Roxton let her lead the way, blowing lanterns as she past them. When she tried to blow out the lantern in the room that she shared with Veronica, he stopped her. He spun her around and pulled her roughly to him. He held her in place by wrapping his arm around her waist. "Leave the light on," he sighed against her lips. "I want to see your reaction every time I put my hands on you… your face contorting with pleasure when I bury my face between your things." She gasped at the explicit image he'd conjured up in her mind. "And I want you to see me… licking and caressing every inch of your skin… driving deeper and deeper into you…"

With those words, Roxton's lips were once again on hers. This time, he'd decided not to hold back. Now that she'd given him permission, he was going to, gently, unleash all of his pent up sexual desire for her. What he couldn't express in words, he'd express with his hands, his tongue, and other parts of his anatomy. He teased her with his tongue, darting it in and drawing it back when she tried to touch her own to it. She pulled away from him a little. "Roxton, please," she implored unevenly.

He smiled. He never _could_ resist giving her what she wanted. He brought his lips back to hers, automatically snaking his tongue out to delve into her mouth. He kissed her roughly, mauling her like an animal. His hands gripped her hips, grinding her pelvis against his. It was the worst and best kind of agony. Worst because he was just teasing himself when he knew he was not going to make love to her so soon or fast. Best because there was nothing in the world that was as pleasurable to him as being in such proximity to Marguerite's body.

After several minutes, Roxton unwillingly removed his lips from Marguerite's. His ego flared at the disoriented look in her eyes. He cupped her cheek in his palm and made eye contact with her, wanting to make sure she heard every word that came out of his mouth. "Are you tired?" He smiled inwardly, knowing what her answer would be.

She chewed softly on her lower lip and shook her head.

"Good, because I plan on making love to you all night." Roxton gently released Marguerite from his grip and walked over to the bed. He pulled back the covers and beckoned for Marguerite to come and stand in front of him. His gaze wandered hungrily over her. She felt naked and self-conscious. She knew she was going to submit to him eventually. That was a new feeling for her. She was usually the one bringing men to their knees; she never thought she'd see the day when a man could bring her to hers. "Have I told you how gorgeous you look?"

Marguerite smiled faintly, "In this garb? I don't think so."

"Marguerite, you could wear an old potato sack and I'd still think you were the most beautiful woman on the planet."

She rolled her eyes playfully. "Well, that's because you l—" She stopped herself.

Catching her unspoken words, Roxton replied, "I might be biased, but that doesn't stop it from being true." While he spoke, he leisurely unbuttoned her shirt. "And as much as I love seeing you in my shirt, I think I'll love seeing you out of it more." With every button he undid, Marguerite grew fainter and fainter. The butterflies in her stomach were growing more restless.

Roxton removed the shirt from her body, revealing her brassiere and underwear. Both were innocently white, but aroused him so painfully that they might as well have been crimson red. He let out an audible breath, "God, Marguerite." Knowing the effect she was having on him was aphrodisiacal to Marguerite. He wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her so that she had to wrap her legs around him. Tenderly, Roxton laid her face-up on the bed.

She watched his eyes settle on her chest. Roxton rejoiced at the fact that she'd soon be completely open to him. By the end of the night, no part of her body would be unknown to him. Sensing a sort of panic arising in her, he molded his lips to hers to assuage and distract her as he peeled her brassiere off of her body. Pulling away, he took hold of the elastic band of her underwear and dragged it over her well-rounded hips and down her long legs.

Totally exposed, Marguerite fought the urge to cover herself. Roxton was up on his elbows, in between her naked thighs, heating up every inch of her skin with his eyes. Just when she felt like she was going to catch on fire, he finally reached a hand out to touch her breast. Marguerite bit down on her lip. He brushed the backs of his fingers over her nipple, coaxing it into rigidity. She arched her back suggestively, wordlessly pleading for him to take things a little further.

Roxton looked up into Marguerite's eyes. "If it wasn't for the fact that I've waited four years for this moment, I'd take you right now," he whispered. He bent his head to the crook of her neck. She felt his tongue lightly touch her skin.

"I wish you would," she replied breathlessly.

He chuckled, the soft sound tickling her neck. "I can't. I promised to bring you unparalleled pleasure, remember? And, trust me, I'll be enjoying it as much as you will." She felt the wet, rough texture of his tongue on her skin again as he licked and sucked at the side of her neck.

Roxton licked a trail from her neck to her throat. She was squirming underneath him, shifting her legs at his sides. He lifted himself up from her body, this time getting a full, uncensored view of her magnificent form. God, he was glad he left the lamp on. Her nipples were dark pink and completely erect. They decorated the most perfect, tanned breasts he'd ever seen. His hands were itching to squeeze them; his mouth watered at the thought that he'd soon taste them.

Mischievously, Roxton stated, "I wonder what you like."

_Oh, if you only knew_, Marguerite thought.

He blew a warm breath over her nipple. She sucked in a breath, clenching her thighs around him. He blew another warm breath, this time over her other nipple. "That seems to be one thing. I wonder what else…" Roxton took a nipple into his mouth. She lifted off of the bed, pushing her breast deeper into his mouth. He opened his mouth wider, taking as much of her in as he could. He swirled his tongue around her nipple and suckled her hard. His other hand reached up to squeeze her other breast, pinching and pulling at her nipple while she moaned and twisted beneath him.

Roxton turned his mouth to her other nipple, bequeathing it with the same attention. He clutched both of Marguerite's breasts in his hands, licking back and forth between the two. She threaded her fingers into his hair, holding him fastened to her. He took the hint and lingered at her breasts. "Bite me," she pleaded raggedly. He obliged her, gently biting down on her nipple. She threw her head back and squeezed her thighs even tighter around him. He loved seeing her like this, wanton and carefree.

"Damn, Marguerite," he murmured against her breasts, kissing and sucking every inch of them. He figured that by tomorrow, they'd be red and marked up. He loved knowing that he'd branded her. He tore his lips from her breasts to trail wet kisses down her stomach. He could smell her; her smell was distinct and unique to the smells that usually surrounded him. He slid his hands lightly down her sides, down her thighs, and rested them each on one of her knees. Despite the fact that he was trapped between her legs, she was attempting to close them.

"Roxton," She asked in an alarmed voice, "What are you doing?" Even though the lamp was not ridiculously bright, it was still bright enough for him to see _everything_.

He stroked one of her thighs with the palm of his hand. "Don't panic," he answered, "I promise I won't do anything that you won't like." He turned his head and licked and kissed up and down the inside of her thigh. Roxton saw Marguerite grasp the bed sheets and was hoping she'd give up trying to resist. He knew she didn't want to protest, but that her habit of self-preservation would make her think she'd want to. He turned his attention to her other thigh. He was so close to the most personal part of her and her heady smell was driving him to distraction. He kept his focus, though, letting her get adjusted to having him so intimately close to her.

Marguerite moaned every time she felt his tongue touch her skin. He seemed to love using his tongue and she told him as much.

"I can't help myself. You inspire me." He flashed her a roguish grin. When he'd decided that she should be accustomed to him, he moved fluidly to his original destination.

When she felt his hot breath blowing at the dark curls nestled at the vee of her thighs, she seized his head. "Roxton!"

Amused, Roxton lifted his head to look at her. "Yes?"

She shook her head. "I don't want…"

"You don't want what?" He was smiling, enjoying the look of fear on her face. He could guarantee that fear would be the last thing she'd feel after he was done with her.

She didn't answer. Instead, she averted her eyes.

"Marguerite…"

"Roxton, just… Can you make love to me now?"

Roxton pried her fingers from his head. "No. We've been over this." Taking advantage of her deflected eyes, he turned his attention back to her apex. She was breathtakingly beautiful. Glistening and slick with her excitement, she reminded him of hot pink rose petals after a rain shower. Before she realized what he was doing, he dipped his head, flattened his moist tongue up against her sex, and ran his tongue from the bottom up.

She jerked up from the bed. "John!"

He'd finally tasted her and he knew no matter what she said that he wasn't going to let up until she was screaming in such ecstasy that the whole plateau could hear her. Roxton continued to lick ferociously at her. He sucked her clitoris into his mouth, nibbling it softly and then harder when he felt her giving in completely. She lifted her hips up and ground herself into his face.

"John…" she panted. "Oh, God…" Every breathless word she emitted fueled him. He continued to devour her, flicking his tongue across her clitoris and sticking his tongue inside of her to relay to her what he planned to do to her shortly. With his mouth still fastened to her, he hummed. The vibrations from his tongue and mouth were almost unbearable for Marguerite. "Ah…" she tossed her head from side to side, groaning and crushing her sex into his hungry mouth.

Roxton lapped away at her enthusiastically, loving the taste of her on his tongue. He looked up at Marguerite. She was wild-eyed and disheveled. Her thick black hair was all over the place and she looked so raw and uninhibited. This was how he liked her. He could feel her quivering against his tongue and knew by the way that her breath was coming in faster, shallower pants that she was about to come.

He felt her start to fight him off. She grabbed at his hair, attempting to pull him from between her thighs. He draped one strong arm over her waist, holding her still under the onslaught of his mouth. "Roxton…" she whimpered, "Please!" He knew she saw this as the ultimate submission: him making her lose such complete control of herself in this way. Her fingers faltered as her breathing grew unsteadied. Roxton sent a silent thank you to the other explorers for giving them this night alone; he had a feeling that Marguerite would be mortified if they heard her screaming so wildly.

Marguerite felt like she was going to combust! Why wasn't he letting up?? She'd never felt so weak and out of control. Roxton delivered a series of steady flutters of his tongue against her swollen clitoris. Her back arched off of the bed. "Oh," she sighed. She hated making noise, but she found she couldn't help herself. Her voice escalated, "Oh… Oh… God, Roxton… Oh, no…" Marguerite finally felt herself let go. _Oh, God, yes!_

Roxton watched her face as he swallowed her reaction. Even if he tried for a hundred years, he couldn't describe how perfect she looked in that instant. When her hips stilled and her exclamations died down, he slid purposefully up her body. He kissed her ardently, stroking her tongue with his, letting her taste herself on him. After a few moments, she curled her fingers around his biceps and extracted her lips from his. "Take your clothes off," she commanded softly.

Marguerite turned to her side and flipped her hair back, wanting to watch Roxton undress for her. She'd waited for what seemed like forever to finally see him naked. He made short work of his clothes and stood before her, body sculpted by years of vigorous hunting. She lowered her eyes to her new favorite part of him. Her clamped her thighs together at the sight. "Wow," she exhaled. "_That_ is…"

He grinned widely. "I'm glad you approve." He climbed back onto the bed, laying on his side facing her. He tunneled his fingers into her jet-black curls. Their eyes were fixed on each other, neither one wanting to break their gaze.

She reached around him and scraped her nails delicately down his back. "I want to be on top," she whispered.

A current of electricity flowed through him at her words, but he was not sure that he should let that guide his decision. "How long's it been?"

She didn't bother playing dense. "Six years."

Roxton let out a sharp breath. Six years was a long time.

Always in a light-hearted mood, Marguerite jokingly said, "We can take it slow if you want." With her hand, she pushed at his chest until he was on his back. She climbed atop him. "I wouldn't want to hurt you." She ran her fingers through her hair and gathered it so that it cascaded down her back in an onyx waterfall.

He curved his fingers to the shape of her waist and held her as she braced her arms on either side of him and lowered herself onto his straining erection. He felt himself being slowly sheathed by her warmth. She was dripping wet and it was turning his brain into mush. "Marguerite," he ground out, "Slow down, I don't want you to hurt yourself." Even as he said this, he raised his hips to hers and pulled her down on him.

"I won't," she breathed.

When she took him as deep as she could, Roxton let out a deep, guttural groan. "Dear God, Marguerite… You feel so good…"

Kindled by his compliment, she sat up astride him. Marguerite lifted and lowered herself, her insides milking his erection erotically, skillfully. She continued to ride him with an increasing fervor. She was something to behold, biting her bottom lip, her bountiful, succulent breasts swaying as she bounced up and down and up and down…

Roxton shut his eyes and allowed himself to just feel… feel himself slide in and out of her drenched alcove. Needing to be in control, he savagely dug his fingers into her hips and flipped her onto her back. He rammed into her, causing her to throw her head back in temporary shock. "Roxton!"

He ignored her and knew by the excited look on her face that, despite her protests, she was enjoying him slamming into her. True enough, she wrapped her legs tightly around him. He dropped his forehead to her shoulder, roughly driving into her. "Did you think about me?" he inquired coarsely.

Marguerite's breath was coming in irregular pants, interrupted only by loud, trembling moans. "What?"

"While you were in the shower. I heard you touching yourself. Were you thinking about me?"

She should've known he would've heard. Deep down, she knew that she didn't want to answer but she was so lost in him, lost in how he was making her feel that he could've asked her for anything and she'd readily oblige him. "Yes," she purred against his muscular shoulder.

"God, Marguerite… It took everything I had not to storm in there, rip open the curtain, and back you up against that shower wall." Oh, but he had a way with words. "You don't know what you do to me." She wouldn't have before, but now she thought she had a pretty good idea.

"I love you," she said, barely loud enough for him to hear. The words were out before she knew what she was saying.

"What'd you say?" he asked quietly. He knew damn well what she said and she had no intention of repeating herself. She closed her eyes to his scrutinizing ones. At her response, Roxton thrust deeper into her. She squealed and her eyes popped open. "Marguerite, what did you say?" Stubbornly, she refused to answer yet again. He impaled her again, more forcefully this time. "Marguerite, say it."

Marguerite thrashed beneath him, whimpering at his recurring assault. "I love you."

"Say it again," he pleaded desperately.

"I love you…" She'd only said those words to him once before and he always swore to himself that he'd crawl on his knees if it meant she'd say them again. He continued his attempts at driving them towards the edge. He wanted her to come again, first, before he relieved himself. He didn't have to wait long. Marguerite's body was a ticking time bomb, ready to explode. And explode she did.

Roxton felt her constrict fiercely around him, bringing him to his own climax. He gritted his teeth as his body shook lightly on top of hers. Marguerite was purring sweet nothings into his ear. He couldn't make out exactly what she was saying, but he knew he liked it. They laid entangled in each other's arms. Roxton lifted his head to kiss her collarbone. "I apologize a million times for having ever called you cold," he spoke in between kisses, "You're anything but…"

Marguerite smiled. "Thank you. I think."

He retracted himself from within her, and yanked the covers over them. She went voluntarily and comfortably into his arms. "How do you feel?"

She closed her eyes and leaned back into him. "Like I've died and gone to heaven. How do _you_ feel?"

"As if I've just made love to the most gorgeous woman in existence."

Marguerite turned in his arms to face him. She stroked his cheek with the pads of her fingertips. "You are the sweetest, most charming man ever." Roxton smiled at the sentiment and secured his arm around her. "So, did you mean what you said earlier?"

Puzzled, he asked, "What did I say?"

She boldly looked him dead in his eyes. "That you would make love to me all night."

"Sweetheart, I want to make love to you for the rest of my life." He hadn't meant to sound so intense but he couldn't help how he felt. He waited for her usual negative response to his indirect talks of marriage.

A sad look passed over her striking features "John…"

"You can't say anything to change my mind, Marguerite. You're so deep under my skin that I couldn't get you out if I tried. I honestly don't plan on living the rest of my life on this miserable planet without you in it."

"Well, John, I never knew you had a flair for dramatics," she said teasingly.

"Me, neither. I guess that's another thing you trigger in me." Roxton paused for a heartbeat, then said, "I have to say, I'm surprised you let me have my way with you."

With a smile, Marguerite responded, "Well, it wasn't all bad."

"From your reaction, I'd say it was all _good_."

She rolled her eyes. "Can't help but be confident, can you?"

"It's not that. I'm just saying that I was thinking I'd have to fight you for control, but I didn't."

Marguerite smirked devilishly, "Like a good sport, I'd figure I'd let you have a turn, but let's not forget who's really in charge here. Trust me, Lord John Roxton, by the end of the night, I'll have you sobbing my name." He had no doubt that she would, but he didn't say it out loud. He could tell she already knew her words to be true.

Roxton flashed his eyes towards the lamp casting the dim light on the room. "Are you tired? We can take a nap then wake up in a few hours and start all over again."

"No. How about we lay here and talk… _Then_ start all over again?" she recommended.

Roxton liked the sound of that and he told her as much.


End file.
